The Zombies in the Park are Looking for My Heart
by myellar
Summary: Blaine's looking for a grocery store when he meets Kurt Hummel and, mistaking him for a zombie, shoots him. Angry!Kurt ensues. Zombie Apocalypse AU. Oneshot. Klaine.


**A/N: Kinda crack!fic, but not really. Written because I was watching ZOMBIELAND. Anyway, enjoy!**

Peanut butter. All Blaine had wanted was some peanut butter.

It'd been weeks since he'd been able to stop anywhere with food, and while he had stocked up on enough canned food and water bottles to last him a lifetime, he was getting sick of raw tuna and flat Dr. Pepper.

It was the first grocery store in miles that wasn't ransacked and it was a Costco, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to Blaine that it might be occupied by a living human being. In the two and a half months since Patient Zero had first taken a bite of a contaminated burger in a dirty McDonalds, he'd only met three people who didn't have Mad Human Disease, and all within the first week.

The parking lot was deserted aside from a flickering streetlamp and a rusted Toyota Camry with the windows shattered and the steering wheel ripped out. Pulling his keys from the ignition, Blaine sat back in his seat and stared at the entrance for a moment, waiting to see if any zombies would be drawn out by the sound of his engine. When none emerged, Blaine stuck his hunting knife- a gift from his grandfather- in his belt, shouldered his rifle- also his grandfather's- and stepped out of the car.

The two gates at the front- each labeled with thick red print declaring it to be either an EXIT or an ENTRANCE- were closed, but the employee hatch was cracked open. Blaine slipped inside, grabbing an abandoned cart from beside the door. Rifle cocked and pointing in front of him, he nudged the cart forward with one foot as he slowly made his way down to unperishable food area.

He was passing the fruit, rotten and covered in flies, when the man leapt out. Without a second thought, Blaine shot at him. There was a cry of pain and a spurt of red and the man fell.

"Oh shit!" Blaine exclaimed, falling to his knees next to the decidedly living person. "I thought you were a zombie!"

Blue eyes glared at him from behind a mop of disheveled brown hair. "Clearly I'm not," he snapped, tone biting.

"Are you alright?" Blaine asked, ignoring his condescending tone. "Where did I hit you?"

"My forearm," the man said, grimacing as he held up the arm of his leather jacket. There was a hole burned through it and a flap of black leather hanging off of the side, both of which were covered in thick crimson blood.

Gesturing to his arm, Blaine said, "May I?" Kurt contemplated him for a moment before nodding.

Gingerly, he rolled back the sleeve of his jacket, and was relieved to see the gunshot wound was on the back of his arm, away from the major veins and arteries. It wasn't bleeding very much, just a few trickles of blood trailing down his otherwise pale arm. Fumbling with his own jacket, Blaine finally pulled a roll of gauze and a tube of ointment from the inside pocket. He uncapped it and dabbed at the room.

"So," he said as he worked. "There aren't any zombies in here, right?"

It earned him another glare. "What the hell do you think?"

"What's your name?" Blaine tried again as he knotted the bandage together. "Mine's Blaine."

"You shot me. Do I look like I want to tell you my name?"

"Look," Blaine sighed, dropping his hands from Kurt's arm. "I know you're pissed because I shot you-"

"Fucking idiot," Kurt muttered under his breath but he plowed on.

"-but you don't need to be a bitch about it."

Kurt raised his eyebrows, looking surprised, and pushed himself off from the floor. "Well, Blaine, I didn't think you had it in you. I'm Kurt" As he spoke he shook the hair from his eyes, giving Blaine his first full view of his face.

A supermodel. It was the first thing Blaine thought of that compared to Kurt and it didn't even come close. Something about his nose- or maybe it was his mouth or eyes or cheekbones- seemed feminine but strong at the same time, a look that was enhanced the slight air of arrogance around him.

"Hello?" Kurt asked, smirking as he waved his hand in front of Blaine's face. "Anyone in there? You're the first human company I've had in months and it'd be a shame if you didn't have a brain."

"I- I do," Blaine stammered. "Do you?"

Why did you say that? he asked himself. Are you trying to sound like a dork?

"I do," Kurt replied, smiling. It took Blaine a few moments to process the fact that he had replied, and then he was having a mental heart attack as he imagined all the other situations in which Kurt might say I do to him.

"So," Kurt said after what was probably only a moment of silence but what to Blaine seemed like an eternity. "What do you need, Blaine? God knows I've got enough to go around."

Finally Blaine managed to rip his eyes away from Kurt long enough to glance around the warehouse. All the shelves were fully stocked with enough food to last a few lifetimes, and no doubt there was running water, but all Blaine could think was that it must get pretty lonely. Then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk.

"Oh, so it's been a while since you've seen people too?"

It took Blaine a second to realize that he must have said that out loud before he was blushing. "Y-yeah," he stammered.

"How long?" Kurt asked.

"Two months, one week," Blaine said, then hastily added, "not that I'm counting or anything." Kurt stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter, so to shut him up, Blaine said, "You?"

"Five weeks," Kurt said, sobering suddenly. "My mom and dad got changed in the first week, and so I was here with my brother and a few friends from school, but then one of them was a dumbass and got everyone drunk and the geniuses went out and got themselves killed. I was left with my friend, Quinn."

"Why didn't she drink?" Blaine couldn't help but ask.

"Pregnant. But then a grocery truck broke down out front and she went out to get the food without telling me and..." he trailed off, looking at his hands. "Anyway, now I'm alone."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said finally. "My brother was killed in the first week, so I don't really know what you're going through but... I'm sorry."

"Anyway!" Kurt exclaimed, shoving himself up. Blaine followed suit."So, what did you come here for?"

"Peanut butter," Blaine said immediately, hoping to make Kurt laugh. He got his wish.

"No really," Kurt finally said as his laughs subsided.

"Peanut butter," Blaine insisted.

"Why peanut butter?"

"Sick of tuna."

"We have plenty of both," Kurt said, then, as an afterthought, added, "And pizza."

"Pizza?" Blaine repeated. He didn't bother asking how he made it- it'd been two and a half months since he'd so much as seen a pizza.

"Want a piece?"

Five minutes later they were sitting in the food court, greasy slices of pizza in front of them. The glass on the vending machines were broken, but only a few of the drinks were taken. "Want something?" Kurt asked, noticing his gaze.

"I-"

Kurt was already there. "Coke? Sprite? Fanta? Yoo-Hoo?"

"Yoo-Hoo!" Blaine exclaimed. "I mean- I'm fine." Kurt snorted and brought him the drink.

"You'd think you hadn't had one of these in-"

"Two and a half months," Blaine interrupted him.

There was a beat of awkward silence Blaine broke by saying, "God, what I wouldn't give to live here."

Immediately he regretted it. Don't be an idiot, Blaine, he thought, mentally kicking himself.

"Well... I have enough room."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"C'mon," Kurt said, crumpling his napkin. "And bring your stuff. The fake bedroom displays are in the back."


End file.
